


A Beginning

by artemisscribe



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Brotp, Hints of my headcanon that John must have been a rower in college, Meet-Cute, because his shoulders are just gorgeous, the brotp strikes again, this is all Red's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:36:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemisscribe/pseuds/artemisscribe
Summary: Some years before he dons the famous International Rescue blue John Tracy encounters an old family acquaintance at Oxford.“Lady Penelope?” he asks, disbelieving that this could possibly be the same girl he’d met a handful of times at his father’s parties and now it’s her turn to laugh,“Oh goodness I didn’t think I’d changed that much! I was wondering how long it would take you to recognise me.”





	

He keeps going until his lungs are burning and he can’t breathe, and then he keeps going a little more. He doesn’t know how long he’s been on the rowing machine, but he’s pretty sure his conversational Arabic playlist is on at least its third run-through when the burn of lactic acid in his arms finally becomes too much to push through and his fingers cramp up hard enough for the handlebar of the machine to slip from his sweat-slick palms and he finally collapses back off the seat, desperately gasping for breath.

When he eventually opens his eyes there’s a pretty blonde girl stood over him holding a water bottle and looking at him with the expectant expression of someone who has just asked a question and is waiting for an answer. With a shaky hand he knocks his soundproof headphones down around his neck, leaving the soft monotone vocab tape droning on unheard,

  
“Whut?” he manages through laboured breathing,

  
“I said are you alright?” the pretty girl repeats holding the bottle out to him, “You were going hell for leather and then suddenly flew off the machine!”

  
He takes the offered drink and gulps down blessedly cool water,

“Yeah,” he manages between sips, “Thanks. Sorry.”

“Oh don’t apologise!” the girl tells him cheerfully, her tone far too ‘jolly hockey sticks’ to possibly be serious, “It’s always fun to have something liven up the afternoon.”

He manages a laugh as he sits up, resting his elbows heavily on his knees as he continues to try and catch his breath. The girl takes up a spot leaning against the mirror in front of the rowing machine, watching him as though she’s worried he’s going to drop again.He in turn watches her as he takes another swig from the water bottle, and the more he watches her the more he gets the idea that he should know her.

He’s seen her around, they attend the same college, he’s pretty certain that she’s rooming on the next staircase over from his at Queen’s, but there’s something about her now, pink cheeked and make-up free, her usually perfect glossy hair scraped up into a messy bun, that triggers an older, deeper memory.

“ _Lady Penelope?”_ he asks, disbelieving that this could possibly be the same girl he’d met a handful of times at his father’s parties and now it’s her turn to laugh,

“Oh goodness I didn’t think I’d changed that much! I was wondering how long it would take you to recognise me.”

“I-You... You look great!” he stammers, suddenly embarrassed at how rude his surprise must be, “Sorry. I just didn’t know you were studying here.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” she smiles, leaning in conspiratorially, “Finishing school fixes a multitude of sins.”

He laughs again as he finally feels strong enough to stand up,

“So how are you?” he asks, “It must be what? Five years?”

“More like eight” Penelope corrects him, offering him a hand which he gratefully takes and allows her to haul him to his feet. She’s deceptively strong, “And I’m utterly gasping now that you’ve drunk all of my water, thanks for asking.”

John looks don at the near-empty bottle in his hand,

“Ah” he says, “Right.”

“Make it up to me and buy me a coffee?” she asks hopefully an impish smile dancing across her lips and he can’t help but smile back,

“You’re awfully used to getting your way aren’t you?” he observes,

“Only Child Syndrome” she quips,

“Well I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Oh then you absolutely have to come for coffee!” she tells him, “I can teach you.”

And well, how can he say no to that?


End file.
